Dirty Money(45)

"Even though I'm poor?" The words feel like they're strangling me. "I live in a trailer, Boone. My father-"

"He's in prison, I know." He kisses my fingertips again. "I know all of it, baby."

"How-how did you find out?"

"Clay hired a private investigator. Pulled a bunch of records. You ain't mad about it, are you?"

I stare at him. I'm not mad. It just . . . feels a bit like all of my  clothes have been peeled off and I'm naked and vulnerable. "I've tried  really hard not to follow in my parents' footsteps. Tried to give my  little sister the life she deserves to have-"

He gently bites down on the fleshy pad under my thumb, sending tingles through my body. "I know, Ivy. I ain't judging you."

"I'm not classy-"

"Baby, you are the ultimate in classy." He kisses the inside of my  wrist. "That has nothing to do with you living in a trailer." He presses  another kiss on my arm, moving up the soft inner skin toward my elbow.  "I know you grew up in a trailer. And I know I said I wanted a classy  woman, but I changed my mind. I want one that's like me."

"You think I'm like you?"

"Aren't you?" He looks up from my arm and grins. "We both come from poor  backgrounds, we're both hard workers, we're both addicted to each other  . . . and we're both pigheaded as fuck."

I give a little snort of amusement. "Well, you're not wrong about that."

"We're the same, you and I. And that's who I want by my side. Not  someone that I can dress up pretty and trot out to parties like a doll. I  want a real living, breathing, gorgeous woman at my side, who will  occasionally tell me to go fuck myself and maybe let me put my hand up  her skirt while I'm driving." He goes back to kissing my arm. "I love  you, Ivy Reba Whoever You Want To Be. And that hasn't changed."

"I love you, too," I tell him, breathless. "I love you so much, Boone. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you-"

"I know, baby. I understand why you didn't." He kisses the inside of my  elbow, and I feel a shiver move through my entire body at the caress.  "Took me a few days, but I got it. Will you forgive me for being a  stubborn ass?"

"Only if you forgive me for the same."

"I think I can manage that." He gets to his feet and pulls me against him. "Can I kiss you now?"

"I think I'd be sad if you didn't."

"Can't have that," he murmurs, and leans in to brush his mouth over  mine. His lips and his taste sweep over me and I'm lost again. I lean  into his embrace, eager for more of his kisses. I'm hungry for him and  it's been far too long since I've felt his touch. His hand cups my cheek  and then our lips are locked in a fierce caress, my tongue tangling  with his.

He groans and his hands slide to my ass, cupping my butt through my  cheap slacks. I twine my arms around his neck and sigh happily when the  kiss breaks. "I love you, Boone."

"You are mine, Ivy. Ain't nothing coming between us, baby." He kisses  the tip of my nose. "I may not be a smooth man, but you will never find  anyone more devoted to you."

"I'm not looking for a smooth man. I want my man, beard and all."         

     



 

Boone growls low in his throat and claims my mouth in another scorching  kiss. "This man and his beard want to take you upstairs and go fuck on a  boardroom table."

I gasp at the lewd statement . . . but I'm also kind of turned on by it. "The boardroom?"

"Right on top of that dickface's paperwork, if you like," he tells me, rubbing his beard against my neck as he nuzzles my ear.

"And . . . then you're going to burn this place down? Like the golf course?"

He pulls back and grins at me. "You do know I donated that land to the city, right?"

"You did?"

"Yup. They're building a park there. You wanna build a park here, too?"  He nips my ear. "I think we could call it the Ivy Smithfield Takes No  Shit From Her Bosses Park."

I giggle. "I don't know if that sounds like me. I took their shit for a long time."

"But that's why you've got me to back you up, baby," he says, gazing  down at me. The expression on his face is completely serious. "I've got  your back. Right now, and forever."

I tremble with the force of how wonderful that statement is. "I love  you," I whisper again, just because I need to tell him. "I'm the  luckiest woman alive."

"Does the luckiest woman alive wanna go find a nice boardroom and get my beard between her thighs?"

"Oh god, does she ever."

He picks me up and carries me like a princess, heading up the elegant  marble stairs to the upper offices. I've only been up here a few times  in the entire span of my employment with Three Jacks. There's a private  bathroom, the three exclusive, swanky offices of the Jacks, and a small  boardroom that they liked to hold their meetings in. I point at the door  as Boone carries me upstairs, and he kicks it open.

"Nice table," he comments as he sets me down on the beveled wooden edge of it. "Expensive."

"For them, it's all about looking the best," I agree, scooting back a few inches to get comfortable.

"Maybe I'll take it with me," he says, a devilish look on his face. "So  every time I lay you down on it, he's getting fucked over by me."

"Ew. I vote burn it."

"Burn it, it is," he agrees, his hands going to my nylon work belt and  tugging at it. "And let's get these off you. My mouth misses your sweet  pussy something fierce."

I moan at his filthy words, tearing at my belt. The clasp pops off and  clinks to the floor, but I don't even care. I miss him terribly and I  want him more than anything I can imagine.

He stands between my spread thighs. His hands drag over my breasts,  rubbing them through the thick weave of my cheap shirt, finding my  nipples under the layers of fabric and coaxing them into aching little  points. My hands tear at my pants, and I manage to work them down my  hips, along with my panties.

"Look at how sexy and hot you are, Ivy," he breathes, his hand sliding  down my front to caress my smooth pussy. "God, I love touching you."

"Then touch me more," I encourage, pushing at the fabric of my slacks that's gathered at my hips. "Get these off of me."

"Yes, ma'am." He helps me slide them off my legs entirely, and then I'm  bare from the waist down. He groans at the sight and puts his hands on  my hips, tugging me toward him.

I wrap my legs around his hips and reach for his belt. "Your turn."

He undoes his zipper and belt, and then shoves his pants down his hips.  His cock thrusts out at me, thick and beautiful and gorgeous. It makes  my mouth water just to look at it. I reach between us and stroke the  head, beads of pre-cum wetting my fingers. "Condom?"

Boone shakes his head. "Didn't bring one. Didn't hope for this." His  hand goes between my thighs and he rubs his thumb over my clit.

"It doesn't matter," I tell him. "I'm committed if you are."

"Oh, I'm committed," he tells me, and then drags one of the chairs over  and sits down. The moment he does, he pulls me to the edge of the table  and his face descends between my legs. "I won't come inside you, Ivy. I  want the time to be right for our family."         

     



 

"Sounds good to me," I breathe, and a moment later his mouth is on my  pussy and I cry out, arching my hips because he's not playing around  today. This isn't a gentle tease-this is an all-out assault with tongue  and lips determined to make me come fast, and come hard. He strokes a  finger into my core even as he sucks on my clit, and then kisses it.  "Already wet as hell for me, baby."

"Always for you, Boone."

He groans and plants another kiss on my pussy, leaving me quivering and  aching for more, and then gets to his feet again. A moment later, I feel  the head of his cock pushing against my core, and then he's seated  inside me. He leans over me, his body pressing mine to the table. His  hand fists in my hair and he kisses me, and then begins to slowly pump  inside me.

It feels incredibly wicked to be lying on a boardroom table in the place  I used to work at, naked from the waist down and being fucked by my  lover with no condom. I'm wet and underneath me the wooden table's  getting slippery, my hips moving across the table with every slam of  Boone's hips against mine. There's something about the shamelessness of  it that turns me on, and I moan and writhe under Boone's heavy body as  he pushes into me.

"Come for me, baby," he demands, and his hand goes to my breast. "Let me feel you squeezing tight around me."

Another moan escapes my throat, and I raise my hips to meet his next  thrust. His fingers pinch my nipple hard, and I'm shocked at the tweak  of pain-and the rush of pleasure that ripples through me in the next  instant.

"That's right," Boone drawls, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes. "You wiggle that ass for me, baby girl. Come for me."